


Little Soldier Boy

by eneli



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Wilbur Soot, Hurt, Minor Violence, Pain, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, not much else hahaahahhaa, this is just pain tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eneli/pseuds/eneli
Summary: Tommy?”He turns, slowly. Brown eyes are shining in a way that they haven’t for so, so long. Transluscent hands are stuffed into trouser pockets, soft yellow sweater clinging to the lifeless form. Dark brown curls move in the nonexistant wind.“Ghostbur?” He questions. The words float out of his mouth, tongue heavy.The man shakes his head, eyes distraught. “Tommy, what are you doing here?”or,im sad
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 19
Kudos: 484
Collections: Completed stories I've read, Dream SMP Fics (Mainly Tommyinnit (Yeah I'm That Bitch))





	Little Soldier Boy

**Author's Note:**

> this is just pain nothing else  
> um its really short too  
> this is just a vent fic because i hate the writers of dsmp /j

Tommy drifts.

He loses time.

The world he wakes up to is no world at all.

He raises his hands, oddly numb and clenches his fists. The action feels strangely detached, translucent fingers bending. He raises his head. 

This place - this - this _realm_ , it’s dyed a honey coloured orange. The sky slowly drips, syrupy and thick into the land. Tommy reaches out to touch the sky and watches his fingers sift through the seemingly empty air.

“Tommy?”

He turns, slowly. Brown eyes are shining in a way that they haven’t for so, _so_ long. Translucent hands are stuffed into trouser pockets, soft yellow sweater clinging to the lifeless form. Dark brown curls move in the non-existent wind.

“Ghostbur?” He questions. The words float out of his mouth, tongue heavy.

The man shakes his head, eyes distraught. “Tommy, what are you doing here?”  
  


What is he doing here? 

Tommy looks down at his palms. 

“I’m… “ Tommy looks back up, “I’m dead Wilbur.”

Wilbur shakes his head again, expression contorting in disbelief, “You need to go back. This isn’t your time to die.”  
  


His heart jumps. If he even has one. “You don’t get to decide that,” He says, eyes piercing. 

“Tommy how did you die?”  
  


“You… you don’t get to decide that,” Tommy repeats instead, voice trembling. “You don’t - you don’t get to decide when I die. You don’t get to - to decide _anything.”_

He shakes, body trembling.

“You don’t get to decide!” He screams, enraged. “You don’t get to decide when I’m allowed to die!”

“Tommy-”

“Where _were_ you?” He snarls, “Where were you when I was exiled?”

“Tommy I’m n-”  
  


“Where were you?!” He bellows. 

The rage, it consumes him. Bites away at his skin. Eats at his soul.

“I’m _dead!”_ He cries. “I’m fucking dead! And I’m _never_ going back.” He clenches his jaw, lifting a trembling finger to his brother. 

“And you don’t get to decide that.”

Wilbur stares. Eyes hurt in a way Tommy can’t comprehend. “Tommy how did you die?”  
  


_How did you die?_

Tommy shakes, fingers digging into his arms as his legs give out beneath him. The grass is soft, unnatural.

_How did you die?_

Fists knocking him down. Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. Blood pouring from his nose. Ribs cracked and trembling. Pain. Lungs struggling, begging, praying. Heart shattering.

Pain. Pain. So much pain.

_“Why don’t you go see then?”_

He gasps. 

Tommy jolts as he feels gentle hands pry his fingers from his arms. 

“Easy Toms,” The voice soothes, dragging him into an embrace. 

He tries to breathe and finds the syrupy air clogging up his throat.

“Hey, hey. In and out okay? It’s alright I’ve got you.”

He whimpers, broken and lost. “I’m - I’m-”

Wilbur hushes him, “It’s okay, It’s okay. You’re safe.”

He bawls. 

Tommy wants to go back. He wants to go back. He wants to go back.

He wants to go home. He - he wants Tubbo. He wants Sam. He wants Phil. He wants Techno.

He wants, he wants, he _wants._

But only Wilbur is here, so he clings desperately to the yellow fabric. 

“I wanna go _home_ ,” He cries, voice breaking as he pleads. 

Wilbur shakes, “Tommy, Tommy, there’s - there’s no-”

“I wanna go _home_ ,” He begs. “I was - I was mo- muh - moving _on_ . I had- I have a future. Take me back, take me _back!”_

Wilbur holds him tighter.

“Take me back!” He screams, thrashing in the arms that support him. “ _Take me back!”_

Wilbur hums, and begins to rock them. 

“I _hate_ you!” Tommy confesses and lies. “I hate you!”

“I know,” Wilbur replies.

“I - I was meant to get _old_.” He whispers, “Why?”

“Why what?” Wilbur asks softly.

“Why wasn’t I allowed to live?”

Wilbur inhales sharply, “Tommy-”

“Why do you all take and take and _take._ Why wasn’t I allowed to die when _I_ wanted?!” He screams, “When - when I didn’t want to be the bad guy, why did you _make_ me?”

Wilbur is silent.

  
“I’m not allowed to die until I want to live?” Tommy laughs. “What kind of sick joke is that?” He laughs again, an ocean overflowing in his eyelids, spilling over and drenching his cheeks. “So - so _sick,_ ” He mumbles, tired and hollow and defeated.

“Tommy, It’s - It’s not okay, “ Wilbur confesses, voice tight. “It’s not - not right. You weren’t meant to go, not - not like this. I’m sorry.”  
  


Tommy shakes his head into the man’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to hear it. “You’re too late.”  
  


Wilbur breathes heavily, “I know - I know. But I’m sorry. You were meant to be a child and - and,” He stumbles, struggles, “and I fucked you up and - and I turned you into a soldier, a - a weapon and I _left_ you - I’m sorry.”

Tommy sniffs.

“I’m sorry you never got to be a child. But,” Wilbur licks his lips, hesitant, “But it’s - it’s alright now, no one can hurt you here, I promise.”

Tommy bites his lip, fingers clenching as a lump forms in his throat. “Okay, I… believe you,” He lies.

“You’re gonna be okay Toms,” Wilbur lies back.

Tommy clings to Wilbur and doubts he will ever be okay.

Wilbur holds the soldier, the victim, the _child_ in his arms and prays.

**Author's Note:**

> if there a was typo, idc 
> 
> considering going dark dmhu
> 
> if anyone hurts tubbo and ranboo in the smp its over - i will riot, they're the only fluff i have left pls


End file.
